


Unto the Flame Imperishable

by Lady CAMo (LadeeCam0)



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 17:35:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4188783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadeeCam0/pseuds/Lady%20CAMo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was inspired by a short tribute I posted on Tumblr on the day of the death of Sir Christopher Lee:</p><p>"Saruman has left the Circle of Arda and passed through the Doors of Night. May Eru Ilúvatar have mercy upon him, and may he be returned to the Flame Imperishable."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unto the Flame Imperishable

“Ah! I wondered when I might see you again. It’s been ages.”

That voice! It had been ages indeed since I’d heard it last. I quailed before that voice and the might that it signified. There had been a time when that voice sounded like home. But now, it filled me with dread. Surely, I had passed through the Doors of Night and was in the Void. I could not possibly in the Halls of Mandos. That place was reserved for the spirits of Elves and Men. Any such honor I may ever had a claim to I forfeited long ago.

“Curumo,” the voice said simply.

I had not been called that since before I entered Middle-earth. Curunír, I had been called as well. Most recently I had been called Sharkey, an uncouth title for an Istari to hold. But most famously, I had been called Saruman. Saruman the White. The White Wizard many had called me. But, I took for myself other titles.

Saruman the Wise.

Saruman Ring-Maker.

Saruman of Many Colours.

My folly and vanity had known no end, it seemed.

“My lord,” I said simply, abasing myself. I could plead my case and hope that I would be forgiven. But this was no simple Maiar, if such a one ever existed. Nor was this even one of the Ainur.

This was The One.

The Father of All.

Eru Ilúvatar, the Keeper of the Flame Imperishable.

I knew in that moment that Sauron was a fool to think himself the rightful heir of Melkor, just as Melkor was a fool to think that he could wrest the rule of Arda from him who created it. I, too, had been a fool to think that I could claim Sauron’s Ring for my own, supplanting both him and his former master to become the Lord of the Earth.

Here in the Void before of the Source of All, the depth of my folly was made manifest.

“Has my doom been decided?” I asked, daring not to look upon my lord.

Eru said, “Curumo, to you had been entrusted the Last Great Errand of the Valar in Middle-earth. Yours was to lead the Council, to aid the Free Peoples as they strove to overthrow Mairon, the one whom they called Sauron. Yours was to see to it that his Ring was destroyed, vanquishing his spiteful influence over the Earth. Would you have yourself placed in his stead?”

Here in the formless Void, there was no need for Eru to ask such a question, as all was laid bare before him. Yet, answer him I did.

“Yes, my lord. As I learned of the devices that Mairon had made for himself, I coveted them for my own. I sought to seize his power for myself, and to claim dominion over Middle-earth.”

“You, too, were not content with the Music?”

“No, my lord,” said I. “I craved the workings of machinery, the precision of clockwork control. I wanted the One Ring so that I could have my own creations. But rather than have them stem from something ephemeral like the Music, I wanted to fashion them with precise control. To my mind, it seemed the only way to be certain of absolute governance.”

“I see,” said Eru.

A long while passed before he spoke again, and for all I knew it was an entire age of the World that had elapsed. For what was Time in the Void?

“I have spoken with your peers, both among the Maiar and even the Istari,” my lord told me, and I quailed at his words. “Also, I have conferred with those in the Halls of Mandos.” How many were residing in those halls because of what I had done, or had compelled others to do? “If I were to permit them to decide your doom, the word ‘torment’ would not begin describe what would befall you. Considering the discord you brought to the Music, I am tempted to let them have their way.”

What answer could I offer to that? This was Eru Ilúvatar! His was the Hand of Doom. His was the Voice that Judged. Even here in the Void, I was cut off from Sauron and Melkor. But even if I weren’t, even if we three could be united, we would have no power to stand against him who wrought the Flame Imperishable. Melkor, and even Sauron, thought that they could master the Void and bring it into Middle-earth. Fools. None can master the designs of the Father of All save Eru Ilúvatar himself. Even here in the Void, Melkor and Sauron had surely entered into this truth.

“Have you nothing to say, Curumo?” asked my Maker. “Speak!”

“I have no power or authority to challenge you or the doom you decide against me,” said I.

“Curumo, my child, I give you leave to speak in your defense,” he replied.

“There is nothing I can say in my defense, my lord,” I said. “I craved power, and worked my will to achieve it, to the ruin of many: two of my peers among the Istari and countless souls among the Free Peoples.”

“And also to the ruin of the Fell Peoples you sought to lead,” my lord added. After a long while Eru spoke again, saying: “It is not in my place nor power to forgive you the evils you wrought in the world. Only those from Middle-earth can forgive the evils that befell them. But for my part, I can forgive your sins against me and the Flame Imperishable. I will not separate you from the Flame. Your penance shall be to confer with all whose lives you ruined. As they tell you their stories, you will experience their pain.”

“My lord, the doom you offer is more just than I deserve.”

“Then to the Halls of Mandos with you!” Eru commanded. “You have some listening to do.”


End file.
